Shalabam Malayalam Movie
Shalabham is a semi-realistic film that oscillates between the factual and the mythical. It gets drowned in its lack of finesse and drags its slightly distinct plot down with it.
Meera (Remya Nambeeshan) sees her future shrouded in darkness as she suffers from a developmental disorder that is fast shredding up her young life. Brought up by a single mother (KPAC Lalitha), she has a few dreams that she fervently hangs on to, despite the insuppressible desire to end it all. Shalabham tracks Meera's solitary flight along strange lines, and finally ends when the young woman comes of age.
The sole redeeming factor of Shalabham is Remya Nambeeshan. She knows that she has laid her hands on a plum role, span and significance wise, and as such makes no error to see to it, that she does a fair job of it. Meera is for sure, a far cry from all the other roles that she has donned till date, and the young actress competently puts up a respectable performance. Besides looking pretty, she emotes quite effectively with ease and pulls off an otherwise messy script out of the dumps.
Madambu's script does forage into unfamiliar territory, but soon loses sight of a target and starts wandering listlessly. The focus keeps shifting all the while and the buildup of the plot ends up quite shaky and real unsteady. The nondescript direction fails to draw out on any of the conflicts in an appealing manner, and it's a shame that very few of them actually work.
There are quite a few instances of social critique here and the barbs quite hit the mark. But sadly, an old-school generalization of anything that's different from the conventional as rebellious and disorderly is evident throughout. The atheists aren't going to be too pleased.
M J Radhakrishnan's camera is non-intrusive; it gels with the general melancholic feel with a notable effortlessness. There are no gimmicks here; rather plain technique as in demand. Kaithapram has in his turn, come up with a few lyrics set to tune by himself that could at best be termed routine.
Suresh Palanchery's Shalabham is hardly a sensitive portrayal of a woman caught face-to-face with a hardcore truth about herself. I found it quite unnerving that an issue as the one in question has to be cloaked in mystery throughout with not even a single clear-cut comment on it.
It's indeed an irony hence that the film is as much regressive as it is progressive; it surges forward with its story, and then doubly withdraws in its execution.
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